


It Started on April Fool's Day

by AshWinterGray



Series: When You're Family (When You're An Addams) [1]
Category: Addams Family - All Media Types, Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Abuse, Aftermath of Torture, April Fools' Day, Child Abuse, Darkness, Defending, Disowned, F/M, Falling In Love, Fast Food, Home, Homelessness, Homer Too, Hurt Steve Harrington, Implied/Referenced Torture, Moving In Together, Moving Out, Pain, Pastels, Protective Wednesday Addams, Protectiveness, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Spiders, Steve Harrington Needs Love, Steve Harrington Needs a Hug, Storms, True Love, Wednesday Addams Wants To Help, narrator - Freeform, negativity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-18 03:50:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20632625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AshWinterGray/pseuds/AshWinterGray
Summary: On April 1st, 1986, a Tuesday as it was, two things happen at once in Hawkins, Indiana. These two things happening at the same time could have been considered fate, however, very few people believe in fate. The reason this event is to be noted is because the event set something rather impossible in motion. Of these two things, one is relatively okay and the other is rather bad, but they both lead up to a third event which sparks the real beginning of this story. But in order for this story to make any sense whatsoever, we must focus on these two events. The first event….Well…Why don’t you go just a bit further to find out?It will be most intriguing.





	It Started on April Fool's Day

On April 1st, 1986, a Tuesday as it was, two things happen at once in Hawkins, Indiana. These two things happening at the same time could have been considered fate, however, very few people believe in fate. The reason this event is to be noted is because the event set something rather impossible in motion. Of these two things, one is relatively okay and the other is rather bad, but they both lead up to a third event which sparks the real beginning of this story. But in order for this story to make any sense whatsoever, we must focus on these two events. The first event….

Well…

Why don’t you go just a bit further to find out?

It will be most intriguing.

\---------------- **W** \------------------

Wednesday Addams stared up at the building she had purchased. It was in a rather small town, something that Wednesday didn’t really mind, but it was also in a part of town closed off from the rest of the world. Something Cousin Itt had been rather insistent about when she had first begun her search. Not everyone liked their little games and tricks.

The house itself seemed quaint when Wednesday had first seen it, something that disgusted her to no end. The openness of the porch that seemed to invite people into warmth was enough to make her want to turn away. The sheik wallpaper and the furry carpet made her want to gag. But Wednesday had still been sold on the three-bedroom, one-bathroom house. And she had been intrigued by the house anyways. Something dark and sinister had invaded this house, making it a delicious little place despite the homey touches it once held. The pang of old fear still hung in the air, and Wednesday Addams thrived in it.

“Now remember,” Uncle Fester, who was dropping her off on this dreadfully sunny day, instructed. “Not everyone is as open to our ways as others. I’m sure you’ll remember quite a few instances when you were a little girl. Just remember what Cousin Itt and I told you and I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

“I will be,” Wednesday nodded at her Uncle. “I’ve got Homer too.”

“Of course,” Uncle Fester wiggled his fingers at the spider on Wednesday’s shoulder. “Homer will take good care of you. Now go get settled, Wednesday.”

Three days ago, Wednesday’s entire family had come to offer their assistance in organizing her new home. Though she wasn’t yet ready to touch the wallpaper or flooring, she had placed black curtains over all the windows. Various torture devices rested throughout the house. Only one bedroom had a simple mattress in it, and Wednesday still wasn’t sure what she wanted to do with that room yet. Everything else was just as she liked it.

“Choose you spot, Homer,” she quickly placed the spider on a nearby wall. “This is our new home.”

And Wednesday already loved it.

\--------------** S **\---------------

The Harrington house wasn’t exactly quiet, but it wasn’t like they had any neighbors nearby to make a noise complaint. And Steve Harrington doubted anyone would take his side now that Hopper was dead. Steve was on the floor, coughing up blood as his father stood over him. Everything hurt, almost as bad as when the Russians had decided to do this to him. 

“Stupid, waste of air!” his father seethed, slamming his foot back into his son’s back and shoving enough to knock the air out of his son’s lungs. “I want you out! You hear me! Out! Out of this house and out of our lives! You utter failure! You don’t deserve the Harrington name!”

He never really had deserved it. His father was never pleased with him. But even when drunk, his father had never beaten him this badly. Steve would have to find a way to cover up his injuries. Good thing Robin had talked Keith into giving Steve a few days off since his parents were in town.

The bad news was that Steve had basically just been kicked out of the house.

He waited for his father to leave, waiting for the tale-tell sign that his father was completely gone as the office door slammed harshly. His mother, he knew, was sipping wine at the kitchen table. He didn’t dare talk to her as he hauled himself up the stairs and grabbed a duffle from the hall closet. His father would destroy whatever was left anyways, so he might as well take what he needed at least.

His mother didn’t even spare him a glance as he limped to the door, not even when he stopped to hack a lung. When Steve was younger, his mother had dotted on him, comforted him whenever things like this happened. But Steve had seen good mothers now. Amazing mothers. Mothers did not try to convince their children that they deserved this sort of punishment.

Should he call Robin and Dustin?

No, doing that would have just caused more problems. Maybe he would tell them later, but for right now, he had no intention of saying anything. With one last cough, he tossed the duffle into the backseat and slid into the driver’s side. Then he was gone. Driving with clouded eyes to the first place he could think of.

The Byers’ old house.

\-----------------------------

On April 1st, 1986, a Tuesday as it was, two things happen at once in Hawkins, Indiana. These two things happening at the same time could have been considered fate, however, very few people believe in fate. The reason this event is to be noted is because the event sends something rather impossible in motion. Of these two things, one is relatively okay and the other is rather bad, but they both lead up to a third event which sparks the real beginning of this story. But in order for this story to make any sense whatsoever, we must focus on these two events. The first event, the rather okay of the two, was that Wednesday Addams of the rich, but odd, Addams family, and the oldest child of the Addams, moved into a rather quaint house that disgusted her at first until she felt the fear and horror that littered the empty halls. The second event, the rather bad of the two, was that after getting the beating of his life, Steve Harrington of the rich, but rather tame, Harrington family, and their only child, was kicked out and disowned.

Though neither of these events was rather good to start, these events happening at the same time triggered a third event. This third event, though not necessarily good to start, begins our story…

On April Fool’s Day, 1986, Steve Harrington and Wednesday Adams met. The circumstances of their meeting set off something that had them both placed on a path that would only lead to one outcome.

And this third event is how it all began.

\---------------** S **\--------------

It was raining by the time Steve got to the Byers’ old house. No, that wasn’t even accurate. It was a down on tsunami by the time he actually pulled up to the house. There wasn’t actually a storm, but it was pretty bad outside. And Steve was too busy hacking up his lungs again to really care. He knew the Byers didn’t live here anymore. He knew someone else lived here now, but this was the first place he had ever felt safe and at home, even without the Byers here, he was protected.

Until a shadow appeared at his car window.

He let out a shout, then cried out as he felt something shift in his chest he knew wasn’t supposed to move. In one swift motion, the shadow pulled open the car door.

“What-?”

It was a girl, a girl dressed in black with hair in braids. She was definitely around Steve’s age, maybe younger or older, he wasn’t sure. And there was something about her. Something he couldn’t place as he looked into her deep, black, unsettling eyes.

“Sorry, sorry,” Steve was muttering repeatedly as he lay limp over his steering wheel, occasionally coughing up a lung. “Sorry.”

Her hand was suddenly on his chest.

“Your ribs are broken,” she said as if feeling him up through his shirt was a common occurrence. “Come.”

Steve didn’t really have a choice in the matter. The odd girl quickly unbuckled his seat belt and tugged him out of the car and into the rain. She then practically dragged him into the house that now looked so different. Steve’s breathing hitched as he noticed several torture devices all over the room. But he couldn’t do anything as he was placed in a bedroom on an old mattress. The rest of the room, Will’s old room, was empty.

Steve jumped as the girl yanked off his shirt.

“What-?”

He couldn’t stop the coughing as he tried to speak. Tears formed in his eyes, blocking his vision as he clenched them shut. He was absolutely terrified.

“Don’t talk,” she instructed as his coughing finally stopped. “You’ll just hurt yourself more. Your rib cage is broken, and it could puncture a lung if you aren’t careful.”

Steve swallowed, regretting it as he winced. The girl studied him, a dark, blank stare seeming to see straight through him. Steve was almost positive that she had never had any other expression on her face except this one. And then her eyes seemed to widen.

“I swear to you, none of my torture devices will hurt you without my permission,” she swore to him.

And for some bizarre reason, Steve wanted to believe her.

“Rest,” she instructed. “I’ll take care of your injuries.”

And with the rain outside, the warmth of the Byers house, and the gentle tone of this odd woman, Steve fell asleep.

\--------------** W **\-------------

Uncle Fester and Cousin Itt had warned her of things like these. She, herself, had always enjoyed a good bit of torture. Her family had taught her that torture was often the best form of love. When she tried to kill Pugsley, it was because she loved him. When she did death-defying stunts with Uncle Fester, it was because she loved him. When she placed sharp objects in her parent’s bed for them to find, it was because she loved them.

But Uncle Fester and Cousin Itt had warned her.

_“Not everyone acts like we do,” Uncle Fester warned her as the night she had announced her plans. “In fact, if you remember when you were a child, not everyone likes how we show affection.”_

_ Cousin Itt suddenly went off and Wednesday listened intently._

_ “Cousin Itt is right,” Uncle Fester nodded as the Cousin finished. “When people see torture, such as ours, they normally think of abuse.”_

_ “What’s abuse?” Wednesday asked._

_ “Well, uh, how do I put this,” Uncle Fester rubbed his head. “Oh! I don’t know! You tell her, Cousin.”_

_ And Cousin Itt did. He told her everything about the real world and the horrors that lay beyond their simple home life. Wednesday couldn’t imagine her family’s traditions being used for such evil intentions such as what she was told._

Well, at the time Wednesday couldn’t imagine the horrors of what Cousin Itt had told her, but here they were, laying on the body of the boy who had pulled up outside her new home. Cousin Itt had been kind enough to show her how to help those people who went through abuse. The poor humans who weren’t like her family couldn’t deal with the stress and strain. And she even had Homer to help too. The little spider had already made its way into the bedroom and was waiting for Wednesday as he made an interact web on the ceiling corner above the boy’s head.

As Homer made himself comfortable, Wednesday went to get the supplies Cousin Itt had gathered for her. She’d have to remember to thank him later. Maybe a nice little pop up card that covered a person in paper spiders. That sounded perfect.

“I don’t know who you are,” Wednesday found herself talking to the tense but unconscious boy before her. “But I’d like to help you. If you’ll let me show you how to be at peace. And I can see it, your fear of torture. I will not force you, but one day, maybe one day I can show you the joy in it when the intent is not bad.”

There was no response from the unconscious boy other than sound of a whimper as she reset his ribs. Once his ribs were all right, she moved to the bruises.

“I can see it, you know,” she was whispering now. “The fear at what I own. The pain of someone who has been hurt too much. My family would have ached to feel that sort of pain, but not you.”

As she finished treating his injuries, Homer began his descent onto the boy’s chest.

“I’m going to take care of you,” she promised him.

Then she left the room so Homer could finish his work. She had to go shopping anyways. There was nothing in her home suitable for a regular human. Thankfully, the boy seemed to have brought over simple, basic necessities, and she managed to keep the bag dry as she brought it into the house and placed it in the empty room with Homer and the boy.

“Steven Harrington,” she muttered as she pulled out a wallet with a license. “So that’s your name.”

Steven made a little gasp as Homer wrapped a bit too tightly.

Still, even with Steven’s meager possessions, there wasn’t anything that would help the poor boy to live a stable life with her home. Though she _loathed_ the idea of doing what she was about to do, it was necessary. She needed to go shopping for _comfort._

Disgusting.

\---------------** S **\--------------

When Steve woke up, it was to a spider on his chest. He would have jerked backward had it not been for the fact that he was in so much _pain._ The spider was the least of his problems as he gasped out. And then there was something shoved down his mouth and he was forced to swallow.

“Pain medication,” a voice washed over him. Somewhat familiar. “To ease the pain. Homer’s silk should help too.”

It took a moment for Steve to remember where he was, what had happened, and who the voice belonged to, but once he did, his breathing hitched.

“Hush, Steven,” the voice cooed gently. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

“How-how do you know my name?”

Steve’s voice was hoarse, scratchy, and he wondered how long he had been unconscious.

“Wallet and license,” the girl carefully held the items above his head so he could see before settling them on the floor beside him. ‘First rule in the book, Steven.”

“Steve,” he blurted out, then bit his lip as he shifted his arm. “Sorry, I uh, I prefer Steve. Please.”

The girl frowned at that last word but said nothing. “Wednesday Addams.”

An odd name, but Steve nodded. What else was he supposed to say to a girl who had dragged him into her torture device filled home and treated his wounds. Then, apparently, she had her spider web him up to bandage his wounds. He was so confused.

“Steve,” Wednesday studied him. “I need you to understand something about my family. The Addams family. Just, please keep an open mind.”

Steve swallowed again, studying her right back. “Okay.”

And Wednesday gave him the basic history of the Addams family. Much to Steve’s horror.

\--------------- **W **\--------------

After a day or two, really two, Steve could walk for a short period of time. Wednesday still made him lay in the bed most of the days. At one point, she threatened to tie him to the bed if he didn’t take it easy. Steve’s voice sounded scratchy still, something he was glad for when he called the store to explain his absence.

“Hey, Keith I-,” Steve could see Wednesday watching him from the kitchen table, a rather horrifying piece of rotted wood. “Yeah, take a guess, man. I’ve-I’ve been sick for two days.” Wednesday furrowed her brow, watching him carefully as the lie tumbled past his lips. “Yeah, I’ll take double shifts. Yeah. Just, yeah. Yeah, I’ll be there tomorrow. Thanks, man. Bye.”

“You aren’t ready to go back to work,” Wednesday quipped at him.

Steve just shrugged at her. “Don’t really have a choice.”

Wednesday decided she didn’t really like this ‘Keith’ person. After Wednesday had explained her family history, and a bit more about her family’s practices, Steve had told her about his family. Wednesday already hated them for hurting this poor boy, but she adored the kids Steve spoke of, even if they were mushy and adorable. She wasn’t _quite _ready to meet them, though she longed to meet Robin Buckley.

“Go lay down,” she instructed to him. “Now.”

This time, unlike the other times she had used her form of “manners”, Steve cracked a smile as he obliged. A squeak from Homer was all Wednesday needed to know that the boy had followed instructions. And with Steve settled, she turned back to the letters she had been writing to Cousin Itt and Uncle Fester. They could probably give her more tips on how to help Steve if not come to visit themselves.

Perhaps she would give this Keith person a visit someday too. After all, Steve was now under her care, and no Addams just left someone on the streets like that.

She should probably write to her parents too.

\-------------------------------

On April 1st, 1986, our story began.

Steve Harrington fears being tortured after a traumatizing experience. Wednesday Addams believes torture is a sign of affection. Steve Harrington’s parents could care less about him. Wednesday Addams’ family would do anything for her. Steve Harrington thrives on warmth, light, and sun. Wednesday Addams thrives in the cold, dark, and stormy.

Despite being complete opposites, the two can’t help but… well… you’ll see…

\------------- **S **\-----------

Steve knew he looked awful, and he knew Robin was eyeing him with a deep worry. He’d left Wednesday’s house early that morning, while she was still fast asleep. He hadn’t dared touch the food, and with the spider (he’s pretty sure its name is Homer, but he still wasn’t sure) also fast asleep and snoring, he had packed his bag and slipped out without bothering to get the bandages and webbing changed.

“You should eat something,” Robin whispered to him, trying to hide from Keith as the guy dug in the back.

Steve shook his head. “Can’t keep it down.”

The lie was easy, as lying had always been for him. People just didn’t care, and even Robin dropped the subject after a small, fake smile. Of course, no one knew it was fake. Placing _The Shinning_ in the horror movie section, he couldn’t help but wonder if Wednesday would like this sort of film. Perhaps she’d laugh.

Either way, Steve thought of the odd type of person Wednesday was. Torture was her show of affection. (He placed all three _Star Wars _Movies in the correct place, which he was rather proud of). She’d been kind enough to not do any of her torture in front of him, but he knew that she probably needed that torture to live.

It made him feel guilty that his own fear had hindered her.

“Harrington!” Keith barked out. “I told you that _Dune_ isn’t a horror movie! Now fix it or you’re fired!”

The thing was, Steve knew for a fact that he had not put _Dune_ away because it had not been in his stack. He had only ever put_ Dune _in the wrong place once when he had first started working. He was pretty sure that someone else was moving it just to get him in trouble. Still, there was no point if fighting back, and Steve just went to dutifully do as instructed.

He needed this job.

“Steve,” Robin tried to say, but Steve only shook his head.

With the movie where it belonged, Steve continued to walk around the store and put back the remaining movies in the correct location under Keith’s hawk-like gaze. Just waiting for him to step out of line.

“Robin, you’re shift is over,” Keith called out. “Harrington, you’re closing.”

“That’s four hours away!” Robin instantly protested. “And Steve hasn’t even had a lunch break yet! You can’t just do that! Are you even paying him overtime!”

“Of course not,” Keith scoffed. “He doesn’t deserve it.”

Steve, again, didn’t say anything. There wasn’t a point. Robin, however, was fuming. In one swift, fluid motion, Robin had picked up the store phone and was jamming in a phone number.

“Robin.”

Her gaze locked with Steve as he gently lowered the phone, and her, back onto the stand. She looked pained by the action, and she eventually walked grabbed her raincoat and marched out…with the tip jar.

“She can’t do that!” Keith hissed, grabbing his own raincoat and racing after her. “Buckley! Get back here!”

Neither Robin nor Keith ever came back, so Steve assumed Robin had won. He continued throughout his shift, not eating anything, and wondering where he should go for the night. He’d have to figure out where to get food eventually, and if he had enough to do so. Maybe a gas station could get him something cheap. And he could always break into the school to shower. He just needed to figure out laundry.

Before he knew it, his shift was over.

With a pained sigh, Steve decided he could go without food for now, as he really had nothing to buy anything, and drove to the quarry. He’d have to weigh his options from now on if he wanted to survive.

To his surprise, Wednesday was already at the quarry. From where he sat in his car at the bottom edge, he could see the girl clad in black at the top, dangling her legs over the rock she sat on as she yo-yoed, Homer. He slowly began walking up towards her.

“The tulips were nice,” Wednesday said as he stopped to sit behind her. “All dry and crinkled. They’re my third favorite flower.”

Steve had found the tulips as he was leaving the house, and they seemed like the sort of thing that she would like. He’d left it on the mattress with a note that thanked her for her help.

“What’s your first?” he asked gently.

“Red roses,” she explained, her face still as stoic as ever. “Dried out and turned black with age. They’re amazing. Mother always said that meant I was a romantic, but I find that foolish.”

“Love?” Steve questioned.

“Oh, no,” Wednesday stopped yo-yoing Homer to face him. “Love is wonderful. My parents have been madly in love for years, and I hope to find someone I can share that with someday. Someone who will commit to me as I commit to them. That’s what love really is, you know? Those silly feelings aren’t really love. That’s just happiness, and occasionally lust. Real love is a commitment. No, I’ve always thought flowers symbolizing things was silly. Flowers are their own vibrance as much as humans are.”

Steve just sort of gaped at her, unsure what to say. Despite the fact that her voice had remained flat, and her expression was still stoic, he clearly could hear the passion in it. No, he could feel the passion in her thoughts on love.

“Homer wants to redo your webbing,” she lifted the spider to his shoulder after a moment, and Steve felt as the little guy wandered into his shirt. “How was work?”

And Steve wasn’t sure what it was about Wednesday Addams, but he told her about everything. How Keith had been a jerk. The blame he got for anything out of place, even if it wasn’t his fault. The fact that he couldn’t do anything without getting fired. The fact that he got paid less than normal people, and often wasn’t paid at all.

Wednesday listened tentatively.

“Come home,” she instructed once Homer had crawled out of his shirt and Steve was done. “You need rest.”

Steve drove them both back to Wednesday’s house, and she instantly pulled him inside. He stared in horror at the pastel couch that was now in the living room surrounded by Wednesday’s torture devices.

“I couldn’t find a good couch,” Wednesday sighed, clearly disappointed by the thing. “But you need comfort.”

“I’ll,” Steve swallowed. “Give me a few days to get paid and I’ll fix it.”

“Oh, don’t bother,” Wednesday sat him down on the hideously pink pastel couch. “If you wish to fix it somehow, just tell me how much you need.”

“Uh, I-I don’t know,” Steve admitted. “I’d have to look at fabric and see how much-”

Wednesday shoved a few hundred-dollar bills in his face, making Steve gape even more.

“Just as long as it isn’t pastel,” Wednesday stated. “Now eat, I know you didn’t eat breakfast, and I doubt you ate lunch.”

Wednesday Addams was both a saint and a martyr at the same time. And for now, that was okay with Steve.

\------------------ **W **\-----------------

Once she was sure Steve was well asleep, Wednesday made her move. She carefully snuck through the house with Homer and made it through town with ease to where she knew she needed to be. Her first stop was this Keith person’s house. For that job, she had observed the store and eventually followed the girl (who must have been Robin) and the other guy known as Keith to their homes. Keith had gotten the tip jar back, and Robin had gotten off with nothing, much to the girl’s distaste.

She let Homer slip into the house, her precious little guy making squeaks to summon others. And then she was headed for the video store. The store was easy to access and break into, much to her delight. As far she was concerned, that was a little disappointing, but this was for Steve.

_Dune_. That was the movie, and for some odd reason, it was already where Steve said was the wrong place. She careful put it back in the right place. Then, she used her quick eyes to make sure that every other movie was where it needed to be. Once that was done, she rewinded all the tapes that were currently placed out and left to be rewinded and placed them back in their proper spot. Then, she grabbed the awaiting bags of Cheetos, disposed of the chips inside, and replaced them with a concoction that would taste like licorice. For her final act, she went to the tape room, grabbed a video of the person who had been moving movies onto the wrong shelf, and placed it into the television after some editing of Keith yelling at Steve.

With her task done, she went back for Homer.

“Good boy,” she cooed at him as she saw his handy work. “Now let’s go get some well-deserved rest.”

When she got back, Homer chose to sleep in his corner above Steve, and Wednesday pulled the disgustingly soft blanket up to Steve’s chin as he slept.

“You are under my care now, Steve Harrington,” she whispered. “And I will do what I can to help.”

Normally, the idea of running her hand through something so soft would appall her, but her own hair was treated with tenderness. Feeling how soft Steve’s hair was actually rather relaxing.

_“Positive touch, Wednesday, my dear,” her Uncle Fester had said. “Positive touch.”_

“I’ll protect you,” Wednesday whispered.

“You don’t have to,” Steve whispered back. After a moment, he cracked his eyes open. “Homer’s a bit of a loud snorer.”

Wednesday nodded, continuing to massage Steve scalp and watching as he leaned into the contact. It was giving her a few ideas, but she wasn’t just going to try them without seeing how Steve would react. She’d need to introduce him to her lifestyle a bit.

“Hey, where’d you go,” Steve asked, sitting up to lean on an elbow. “You’re mind wandered a bit for a moment there.”

Wednesday was silent for a moment.

“Rest, Steve,” she eventually decided, guiding him back down and pulling the blanket up. “You need it.”

With a few more massages to Steve’s scalp, she wandered off to get some sleep of her own. She had a plan to put into motion, and she needed at least a few hours of sleep to do so.

\-------------- **S **\------------

“Steve, could you help me with something?”

Steve turned at the sound of Wednesday’s voice with a frown. Homer was awake sure, already having fixed his bandages and what-not. But he hadn’t expected Wednesday to be awake just yet. She’d gone out late last night and come back even later.

“Be there in a second!” he called back.

With Homer satisfied with his webbed bandages, he carefully made his way into the living room. He always had to be careful right after Homer webbed him up because the webbing needed time to actually settle against his skin. If the webbing didn’t settle right, he had to let Homer do the webbing all over again or risk more pain. He discovered that the hard way.

“What do you need, Wednes-oh.”

Steve gaped as he saw what Wednesday was doing. She was mostly strung up in one of her torture devices, only one arm not in a strap, and the other arm a bit too loose. He wasn’t sure what it was called, but she was laid out with her arms above her head, sort of.

“Help me,” Wednesday looked at him with that burning gaze. “I can’t quite get my arms right, and I am in need of a good stretch.”

Quickly getting over himself, he nodded dumbly and strode forward. With careful hands, though they shook a bit, he got both hands secured in the straps and then double checked her feet.

“Tighten it for me,” Wednesday asked him. Well, more demanded, but Steve just sort of grabbed the wheel.

“I-I,” Steve’s hands were shaking.

“Steve,” Wednesday’s voice washed over him, making her lock eyes with him. “This isn’t about pain. Remember that. No questions. No answers. Just stretching me out.”

Steve nodded back, because Wednesday didn’t lie to him. Not so far. She was the most truthful person he had ever met. And with her reassurance, he tightened the wheel. He heard her gasp, a sound that nearly made him reverse the action until she encouraged him to go tighter. And tighter. And tighter. And still even tighter. And then, once she said it was tight enough, she made him leave her like that for a bit. He got Homer his breakfast, a couple of dead beetles kept in a container in the fridge. And then made himself breakfast, leaving some to sit out for Wednesday. It would be cold by the time she was done, just the way she liked it.

“Wednesday,” he called out gently. “I have to go to work now. Will you be okay?”

“Yes,” Wednesday hissed out. “Homer can get me out, he just can’t tie very well. Massage my left arm?”

Steve carefully, cautiously, walked over to Wednesday and massaged her strained muscles. She released a sigh of relief and then bid Steve goodbye. He was on his way to work, trying to process what he had done as he went.

To his surprise, the thought of bringing Wednesday pleasure instead of pain actually eased the thought that he had basically tortured someone. He just had to remind himself that he was _helping_ not_ harming._ But, still, the thought that he was as bad as the Russians also crept into his head.

“Steve!” Robin knocked on his window. “Quit daydreaming so I can tell you the good news!”

Steve jerked rather harshly but got out of the car with a playful glare at Robin.

“What’s such good news that I couldn’t have a few seconds?” Steve cocked a brow at her as he stepped inside.

“Keith called out today?” Robin was beaming. “Something about monster spider webs or whatever. But the point is, he isn’t going to be here today!”

Steve gaped at Robin, but not for the reason she thought. As Robin rambled on about the store being so tidy, and how Steve did a good job last night that even Keith would have been impressed, Steve’s thoughts went back to the first comment.

Spider webs…. He might just kill Wednesday.

Or thank her.

“Right,” Robin grinned at him. “Let’s be ourselves today, yeah? I’ll get the TV turned on, and you go ahead behind the counter.”

Steve flipped the sign first, grinning in relief as he knew things would be alright today. With no Keith watching him, he and Robin could actually have a good time. Steve would still need to do his job perfectly, but, hey, at least he didn’t feel like the world would end.

It was a good day, at least, until Robin gasped out.

“That’s it!” Robin bellowed, pure rage flooding off of her. “I’m done! You hear me! Done!”

She was already headed towards the phone, and Steve was already trying to stop her. But then he saw the tape. At first, it was just a tape of Keith yelling at him, and then him moving a tape back to its correct spot. But then the video repeated itself, showing Steve that he had only seen the second half of the video. The first half was of Keith purposefully moving that exact same video hours before, at least according to the time stamp.

It was already too late to stop Robin. The manager of their store rarely came to their tiny store in Hawkins as he had several stores all over the U.S. There wasn’t necessarily a reason to do so as there were town store managers too. But Keith _was _the town store manager, and he had purposefully making life harder.

If this was Wednesday’s doing, Steve would definitely be thanking her.

“The manager will be here in two days,” Robin told Steve. “He’ll be making a ‘surprise visit’ to our humble store.”

Robin’s chilling smile reminded him a bit too much of Wednesday’s blank facial expression.

“Okay,” Steve nodded. “Let’s just get through the day.”

A few seconds later, four kids were walking through the store door.

“Hey, why is Keith’s house covered in spider webs?” Lucas asked as the others began to comb the shelves.

“Why on Earth would we know?” Robin demanded.

Steve just kept silent, trying to hide a smile.

\--------------- **W **\--------------

Wednesday watched as Steve finished stapling the dark red fabric over the couch, hiding the terrible looking pink pastel. It gave Wednesday a breath of relief to see it gone. Then she watched as Steve placed the stapler gun on one of her many torture devices. The choice to do so, as far as Wednesday could tell, was deliberate. Steve seemed to realize what she had realized.

The device would have use.

“What does greasy food taste like?” Wednesday asked him curiously.

Steve turned to her with a surprised expression. “I didn’t think that would be your thing?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Wednesday told him. “I’ve never had any before. The lights in those places are far too bright. And the colors are far too cheery.”

Steve gave a nod in thought, look at his own wallet with a crumpled expression. Something inside of Wednesday panged at that, and it wasn’t a good hurt. She didn’t like this pang one bit and she desperately wanted it to go away.

“Would you take me?” Wednesday asked. “The air is too clear to walk, or I’d go myself.”

Steve’s eyes widened a bit and he nodded, that smile of his easing the pang. She’d need to call her mother later, figure out what that awful feeling was. Surely she’d know.

“Yeah, yeah, I can take you,” Steve was still grinning as he offered his hand to help her up. For anyone else, she would have slapped the hand away, but this was Steve. “What type of fried food are you thinking? There are burgers, and chicken tenders, and French fries. Fried onion rings are good. Then we’ve got chicken sandwiches and chicken nuggets. Some places have ice cream of milk shakes. I don’t know if you’ve ever had that before.”

“All of it,” Wednesday stated. “Let’s get some of everything.”

Steve, once again surprised, let Wednesday drag him out to his car. As she had said, she had a strong distaste for the decor of the many places they entered, but they had several bags of fast food in the back seat by the time they pulled up to a gas station, Wednesday paying for that too.

“Just try the fries first,” Steve offered her a small bag of McDonalds French fries. “We’ll start small and work our way up to everything else, okay?”

Wednesday nodded. She placed the French fry on her tongue and bit around it, tasting the weird salty taste. The other half of the taste had to be grease, she was sure of it.

“Interesting,” she hummed, finishing her fry and popping two more into her mouth.

Steve was grinning as he told her to finish her fries as he pulled out of the gas station.

Wednesday discovered many things as she continued trying foods on the drive home, and even when they entered the house.

She loved McDonalds fries the most, and hated waffle fries from chick-fil-a. She loved the Chick-fil-a nuggets better than the McDonalds, Burger King, and Wendy’s. Wendy’s had amazing frostees, but she liked McDonalds Milkshakes better. Her favorite burger was the McDonald’s Quarter Pounder, followed closely by the Wendy’s cheeseburger and the Burger King Whopper. Her favorite was definitely McDonalds.

She and Steve split the food, enjoying full stomachs, Steve for the first time since he was kicked out. Even Homer nibbled on some fries, and he seemed to like them.

Wednesday liked this new feeling in her chest. It was like something was swelling to the point it hurt, and it was all because Steve was laying on the floor beside her, smiling and laughing as she talked about anything and everything.

She’d have to ask her mother about this feeling too.

\------------------ **S** \-----------------

Keith, who had clearly been having a bad week, was definitely surprised when the head manager of Family Video showed up.

“Just a routine check,” the manager waved off, sending a look in Robin’s direction. “Don’t worry yourself. Just continue about your day.”

Keith clearly thought nothing of this “routine check” because he did, in fact, continue about his days. His lack of Cheetos seemed to make him angry, and Steve was a little confused as to why the Cheetos were gone, but he knew better than to comment.

“Harrington!” sure enough, Keith bellowed out as Steve was placing movies away again. “How many times do I have to tell you that _Dune_ doesn’t go here!?”

Steve said nothing, already making his way over to where Keith was glaring.

“Hold on a second,” the manager placed a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “You are the manager, are you not, Keith?”

“Yes sir,” Keith beamed in pride, smirking at Steve. “I am the manager.”

The head manager pursed his lips in displeasure. “Of course, and would you please explain to me why you think it is a good idea to scream at your employees about their faults from halfway across the floor?”

“Uh, well,” Keith looked utterly speechless, which was a rare thing. Keith always had a witty comeback to everything. “You see sir, I-”

“I see,” the manager nodded. “Could you please also explain why said employee has not been properly taught where this movie goes?”

“Sir,” Keith had gained his bearings. “That’s just employee error. He just can’t get it into his head. I’ve thought about firing him, sir. But my best employee says she and this idiot are a package deal.”

Steve could see Robin clearly wanted to rip Keith’s head off.

“I see,” the manager nodded again. “Tell me, Keith, what makes you think it was this young man that put the tape out of place?”

“Because Harrington is the only one stupid enough not to put it back properly,” Keith scoffed, all of his smugness back.

“Really?” the manager quirked a brow. “Then could you please explain this surveillance footage that your other employee was just showing me of _you_ putting the movie in the wrong spot after hours.”

Keith spun around to see the surveillance footage that Wednesday had composed (though only Steve had come to that conclusion).

“And would you also explain to me why this young man is only making $1.15 per hour when the minimum wage is $3.35, and that is promised to every employee at the store? Or perhaps you can explain to me why this man’s timecard reads that he works ten _illegal_ hours a day without break? Or why, when this man was clearly sick, he was forced to come into work? You realize that means this whole store will have to be temporarily closed down and decontaminated? Oh, or better yet, why this poor young man doesn’t always get his paycheck?”

Keith was a stuttering, pale, useless wreck. And yet, Steve couldn’t feel any relief or karma at the situation. Just pity and guilt. If he didn’t work here, then maybe this wouldn’t be happening. Maybe everyone would have been better off if they never met him.

“Now, according to your friend, Steven, you would not wish for Keith here to be fired,” the head manager turned to him.

Steve shook his head. “No sir. If it’s a problem, I can leave. Keith only does this because I was a jerk through most of high school. I don’t blame him. It’s my fault he treats me like this.”

The head manager completely crumpled at these words.

“Well,” the head manager turned to Keith. “Because this man has made his request, we are not going to fire you, Keith. However, you have been demoted to a simple Family Video Employee, and while the store is decontaminated, Robin Buckley will be trained as the new manager.”

Steve couldn’t help but smile at Robin in pride. She deserved this. She really did.

“Steven, you will be trained as assistant store manager,” the head manager continued, and it would be in both of your best interest to hire more employees. It shouldn’t be too much of a problem with the recent downfall of that StarCourt Mall. As for your salaries, both will be increased, Steven, yours will be increased quite drastically. And as for the unfair payment, I will personally look over the records myself and hand you the check in person.”

Steve’s eyes were wide, and it was his turn to stutter out an excuse. It really wasn’t necessary. But the head manager was insistent, and, after giving them the first week off, the two were then given the day off as the store was closed for the day.

“I should have done that a long time ago,” Robin scoffed. “Now we’re managers.”

Steve offered her a shaky smile and drove her home. Then he headed home himself.

“Wednesday!” he called out.

“You’re home early.”

Steve practically jumped three feet in the air as the weird coffin type thing with the face opened up. It completely freaked him out to see Wednesday emerge from the thing with spikes, but he managed to control his breathing.

“Yeah,” he breathed out. “Yeah, Robin called the head manager two days ago. He’s in charge of the store’s all over the U.S. He basically fixed things at work, stopped Keith from lashing out at me, I guess.”

“You mean abusing you?”

She looked so serious when she said it, more so than she normally looked.

“No,” Steve shook his head. “No, Keith didn’t give me anything I didn’t deserve.”

Wednesday raised a brow, the first real break in her façade that Steve had seen and tugged him to the couch. She made him sit down and got some of the leftover fast food for him to eat as she continued to spend some time in the weird device.

“An Iron Maiden,” Wednesday tells him later. “That thing is called an Iron Maiden. Under regular circumstances, for torture purposes, the Maiden would be tightened and slowly pierce the victim. But even I would not go that far. I see it more as a way to spend time alone, and I do love the dark. And that thing you helped me with is called Rack. It is meant to stretch a victim and pull them apart. But it makes for a good stretching machine. Or even a good back popper.”

Steve eyed the two torture devices, trying to picture them the way Wednesday did. It wasn’t easy, especially with his own experiences. But he tried, for Wednesday’s sake.

\----------------- **W **\---------------

Steve was taking those kids he loved out to lunch, so Wednesday considered it a perfect time to finally talk to her mother and father. He’d be gone all day, according to him at least, and Wednesday intended to use that to her advantage.

_“UUUUUUHHHHHH!”_

“Hello, Lurch,” Wednesday greeted her old friend and housekeeper. “It’s good to hear your horrid voice. I am sorry I can’t talk with you longer, but could you get mother for me?”

There was a grunt on the other end and then a short wait.

_“Wednesday my dear,” her mother’s voice washed over her. “How are you? Is that old house treating you well?”_

“Yes, mother,” Wednesday answered happily. “This old house is rather nice, and it creaks in places I hadn’t noticed before. Actually, I wasn’t really calling for pleasantries. I had a few questions.”

_“Of course,” Morticia’s voice was excited. She had missed her daughter dearly, but all birds had to leave the nest. “What’s the matter dear?”_

“Feelings,” Wednesday explained. “Odd feelings. Mother, are you aware that Uncle Fester and Cousin Itt told me what abuse was?”

_“Yes, quite aware,” Morticia admitted. “No secrets in this family. I thought it best to let you think over what you had learned before I checked on you. To think that anyone could dish out such sacred practices for evil in this day and age. Completely barbaric, even for our standards.”_

“Yes, well, my first day here, I met someone who endured abuse from his family,” Wednesday explained, hearing her mother gasp. “He came here because the former owners of this house used to help him, and he was a bit out of his mind. Homer and I managed to help, but there are some, for lack of better term, mental side effects.”

_Morticia sighed on the other end. “Torture was not always used for pleasure, Wednesday. It was used to drive people mad as they experienced pain. If he raves-”_

“It’s not that he’s raving,” Wednesday quickly corrected. “He-he seems to think he _deserves_ the torture done to him. That he _needs _to be punished. Mother, his parents kicked him out and disowned him. His own boss treated him just as badly, threatening to fire him and leave him helpless on the streets if even the smallest thing was out of place.”

Morticia, for once, was silent.

“I’ve been taking care of him,” Wednesday continued, trying to fill the silence. “But, but mother, I think someone tortured him for information at some point too. He said something about Russians the first time he was here, and I know that the Russians and Americans don’t get along. But you should hear him talk, mother. He thinks he’s worthless.”

_“No one is worthless, dear, remember that,” Morticia instructed. “I’d like to meet this young man, but with all of these events coming up…I could send Fester, but I don’t want to scare the poor boy. I wish I could help you Wednesday, but our family may be too exotic for him.”_

“I know,” Wednesday nodded. “I’ve got an idea though. Something I’ve been trying to ease him with. It seems to be working, but it’s too early to tell. But, mother, the real reason I called was because I got these odd feelings in my chest the other day when I was with Steve. One was a pang in my chest, a bad hurt I’ve never felt before, and it happened when Steve was sad. And the other was this painful swell, a good pain, and it was while Steve was laughing. Mother, what do they mean?”

_“Oh Wednesday,” her mother sighed wistfully. “One day you’ll understand what those two feelings are. For now, tell me the name of this boy you’ve adopted.”_

Wednesday pursed her lips. She’d connected the dots over time… but… “Mother, I, well, his name is Steven, but he prefers Steve. And, well, mother, I think his parents are John and Elaine Harrington. Because his name is Steve Harrington.”

Wednesday knew when her mother was angry, even over the phone, and this was one of those moments.

The Addams family knew the Harrington’s very well. The couple, like the Addams, was wealthy with a “nice” house in Central Park. There were rumors that they had another house in some no-name city, but this was a surprise to them both. Most people forgot that the Harrington’s had a son to begin with, and only those people that had known the Harrington’s for a good twenty-five years had ever seen the boy. Like the Addams family. Wednesday had been three the last time the Harrington’s brought their five-year-old son to a charity auction.

_“You take care of that boy, Wednesday,” Morticia instructed firmly. “I never did trust that family.”_

“I will, mother,” Wednesday stated. “He’s under my care.”

And the Addams family protected and cared for those they took in. Always.

\------------------- **S **\------------------

“You need to tell, Robin.”

“I don’t _need _to tell anyone!”

“She’s your best friend. She deserves to know.”

“That’s not the point!”

“Then what is the point?”

Wednesday Addams was definitely one of the best and worst things to happen to Steve Harrington. Robin Buckley and Dustin Henderson both up there tied with Wednesday for first place. He loved them and hated them, and it was all very confusing. But Wednesday, as usual, was right.

Robin did deserve to know. As did the kids. He was starting to hate it when Wednesday was right.

“Hey,” Robin perked as Steve walked in on time. “How’s life for the assistant manager?”

“Good,” Steve responded, not missing the way Keith sneered at him. “Like, really good. Listen, Robin, I need to tell you-”

“Oh, we’ve got three interviews today,” Robin rambled, and Steve could tell it wasn’t because she was being rude. Robin was just generally nervous, and she tended to ramble and cut people off when she was nervous. Steve couldn’t help but smile fondly. “I’ve done background checks already, but still, want to see the real them, you know?”

“Robin,” Steve chuckled. “Breathe. You’ll do great. But, hey, I need to-”

“Excuse me,” a woman and her son stepped up to the counter. “I’d like to rent this movie for my son please.”

Both Robin and Steve eyed the movie.

“Lady, you know _The Shinning _is rated R, right?” Steve eyed the woman carefully as she looked to her, maybe eleven year old son. “Like, it’s a horror movie.”

“What, no it isn’t,” she protested. “It’s a romance.”

“No, ma’am,” Robin quickly spoke up. “It most definitely is a horror movie, and we can’t check it out to kids.”

“I can’t believe this!” the woman began to fume. “Let me talk to your manager!”

“Okay,” Robin grinned. Taking a step back, she spun in a complete circle and then stepped forward. “Hello ma’am, I’m the manager, how can I help you?”

Slamming the movie onto the counter, the woman and her son stormed out.

“I got it,” Steve sighed, checking to make sure the movie was still alright. Thank goodness for padded casing. “But I _really_ need to talk to you, Robin.”

“Okay, okay,” Robin nodded, already going back over her list for the day. “Right, yeah, in a minute.”

With a fond chuckle, Steve out the movie back. Then he gave Keith the bag of Cheetos he had brought in. The other boy eyed the bag cautiously, but Steve noticed his face light up as he tasted an actual Cheeto. Steve had a feeling he knew why Keith had feared Cheetos.

“Robin?” Steve stepped towards her. “Robin, like, I really need to talk to you. It’s kind of important.”

“I know-I know,” Robin flapped a hand in the air. “Let me just.”

“My parents kicked me out.”

Robin stopped, completely frozen by this information. Steve could practically see the gears turning in her head as she processed what had just been said. Steve cringed back a little as she whipped her head towards him.

“What did you just say?”

Steve let out a sigh. “Well, uh, my parents kicked me out. About a month ago actually. That day we had that really bad storm, actually. That’s why I didn’t go to work. The rain made me sick.”

Robin’s eye was twitching.

“You’ve been homeless for a month?” Robin asked, scarily calm.

Steve just nodded. Then he stopped and shook his head.

“No, no, I haven’t really been homeless,” Steve quickly amended. “I just-”

Dustin, Lucas, Max, Mike, and Erica decided to enter the store at that moment. Much to Steve’s horror. Robin vaulted over the counter and raced to the kids, whispering furiously at them. All five eyes snapped to him with varying degrees of expressions.

“Hey,” Steve waved awkwardly.

“Steven Elliot Harrington,” Erica hissed. “What did Robin just say?”

“I swear I am not homeless,” Steve raised his hands in surrender.

“Living in your car isn’t a home, Steve,” Max deadpanned.

“I’m not living in my car, Maxine,” Steve quipped back. “I’m staying in an actual house with my new roommate. Or is it housemate?”

“Don’t change the subject,” Mike snapped at him, stalking forward and jabbing Steve in the chest. “Why wouldn’t you tell us? We could have helped!”

“Keep your voice down,” Steve hissed at him. “I don’t want all of Hawkins knowing.”

“We’re you even going to tell us?” Dustin asked, looking incredibly betrayed.

“Yes,” Steve stated firmly, patting Dustin’s head through his hat. “I was going to tell you today. Actually. I just see Robin first, and then I was going to go raid your hang out time once my shift was over.”

The phone rings behind them, but neither Steve nor Robin move to answer it.

“So you just being homeless is okay?” Lucas scoffed.

“I’m not homeless,” Steve whispered harshly. “I am literally living in a house, and have been since I got kicked out.”

“Then where is your roommate, huh?” Max sassed right back. “Like, honestly Steve, this isn’t at all believable.”

“I-!”

“Harrington!” Keith called out. “This is for you!”

Steve sighed, took a long breath, and marched over to the phone.

“Hi, this is Family Video. Steve speaking, how can I help you?”

_“I need you to get eggs.”_

“Wednesday?”

_“Yes,” she responded. “I need you to get eggs before you get home. Homer likes them rotten, and I need to be able to set them out to rot. Can you stop and get some?”_

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve nodded, though he knew Wednesday couldn’t see him. “But I don’t get off for another few hours.”

_“That’s fine,” Wednesday sighed. “I’ll be a bit busy myself.”_

“Right, eggs,” Steve nodded. “Anything else I should grab?”

_“McDonalds.”_

Then she hung up.

“Rude,” Steve scoffed, grinning a bit. “You guys want McDonalds later? Wednesday wants me to pick some up for dinner.”

“Who names their kid, Wednesday?” Keith questioned.

“Well, obviously the Addams family because that’s what they named their daughter,” Steve shrugged. “But seriously, who wants McDonalds?”

The kids, now distracted by the thought of fast food, shot their hands in the air. Even Robin caved at the mention of milkshakes.

\------------- **W **\-------------

Wednesday had been thinking about this long and hard by the time she finally got up the nerve to ask Steve. It was a day that Steve had come home looking rather relaxed having spent it with those kids he loved so much. It had been two weeks since Wednesday had asked Steve to buy eggs, and since then, Steve had seen Wednesday in several different torture devices, always helping when she asked.

“Steve,” she spoke softly, causing Steve’s head to snap towards her. “Can I ask you something personal?”

“Yeah,” Steve nodded, because that was their friendship now. “Yeah, go ahead.”

“Are you afraid of me? Of what I can do with these devices?”

Steve wanted to protest, opened his mouth to do so too. But he also had to stop. Thinking over it, he let his gaze sweep around the room as he took in everything. They were terrifying, these objects of torture. And yet…

And yet Wednesday had shown him a completely different side of things.

“No,” he admitted, looking her dead in the eyes. “No, I’m not afraid of you or what you can do. I trust you, Wednesday.”

Wednesday couldn’t help the relief, and that weird swelling in her chest was back. She forced herself to sit on the horribly soft couch, much to Steve’s protest, and she looked him dead in the eyes.

“Do you trust me enough to help you get over your fear?

And, oddly enough…

“Yes.”

\-------------------------------

On April 1st, 1986, Steve Harrington and Wednesday Addams met for the first time. As time began to pass, they became close friends, learning more about each other, such as their dislikes and fears.

Complete opposites in every way, neither expected more than friendship. However, as time passed, they became more than friends.

How, you might ask?

Well…

You’ll just have to wait and see.

**Author's Note:**

> This Will Be A Series


End file.
